A Love Affair with Quidditch
by Gryffindorkkk
Summary: A short look at Oliver Wood's love of Quidditch and how it shaped the rest of his life.


The pitch was empty; empty except for the young man standing in the dead centre of the grass. His breath was deep, his expression longing.

This was the first time Oliver Wood had seen the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch; the first time he felt the cool breeze against his young cheek, the first time he'd smelt the grass; he first of many to come.

He knew this was where he belonged; having not excelled at any of his classes in the first three weeks of his first year at Hogwarts. Quidditch was where he belonged.

The Quidditch Pitch would be the back drop to many of Oliver's firsts; fights, wins and losses.

It would be the setting of a number of other firsts too.

Oliver felt the endorphin-inducing pull behind his navel as he pushed off the ground; his first flight at Hogwarts. Three weeks after his trip to the pitch alone, he was finally doing what he had wanted since his grandfather bought him his first broom. Flying around the pitch with his class mates, none of which as skilled or as fluid on the stick than him.

Trying out for the Gryffindor House Team for the first time was the scariest thing Oliver had ever done. He was a small first year compared to the rest of the fourth, fifth, sixth and even seventh-years trying out for the team.

Not surprisingly, he hadn't made it. He was trying for the position of Keeper, Charlie Weasley, the captain, had told him he was a great Keeper, just not as matured as the veteran Keeper the team had had for the past four years.

During his second year, after the rejection from the Gryffindor team Oliver could be found on the pitch, having one of his friends throwing makeshift Quaffles at him, honing his skills for the try-outs that were practically a whole year away.

Sitting in Transfiguration, Oliver would barely hear McGonagall speak of particular cats, or dogs and the way they transform... or... something...

Let's face it, Oliver was no scholar.

Oliver had met Charlie again in his third year, on the pitch, ready to prove himself. This time there was no veteran Keeper to care about, he had graduated. It was all Oliver. It was his time.

Ten minutes into the trials, Charlie had asked all the Keeper candidates to leave, all that is, except Oliver. He had made it; Oliver Wood – Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The owl he received as congratulations from his father was the best piece of mail he had ever read.

A week before his first game, he had met her. Her slim figure and short brown hair had bobbed down in the seat next to him in his Transfiguration class. How had he not seen her before?

She introduced herself, her voice smooth and kind. Oliver had choked on his own spit as he tried to introduce himself.

They had laughed at his embarrassment; then decided on having lunch together.

His first girlfriend.

The day of Oliver's first Quidditch match, was also a day of sorrow.

Another owl from his father had arrived; thinking it was a good luck from his family, Oliver ripped it open with gusto.

_'Oliver,_

_We have some bad news. Your grandfather passed away last night. He has been quite sick for a while, you know that. He said he loved you and wished you all the best for your Quidditch career. He knows you'll go far. An owl following this will have a package of wanted you to have._

_I love you,_

_Mum'_

Oliver had left the great hall early that day, taking a long walk to the pitch. He hadn't waited for the second owl in the great hall, but it had found him mere metres from the pitch. It was carrying a large, long package. He opened it slowly, not really wanting to see what was inside.

It was his grandfather's old broom. It wasn't worth the change in your pocket, but to Oliver, it was priceless.

He had used it that day, in his first game; the same game that he was Bludgered in the head mid-game.

His first Quidditch injury.

Oliver woke up, a week later, in an infirmary bed. She was by his side, as was his mother and father. All showed signs of relief as he came to. He figured she didn't need to meet his parents now.

Oliver shifted nervously, it was the game after his concussion and he had something to prove. His skin rippled in the cold wind that flew up near his goal posts. He had successfully blocked two Quaffles, but let one in. He was praying that the snitch would be found soon and not by Hufflepuff. He had blocked another three Quaffles, Gryffindor was winning – 40 to 10.

The whistle blew, Oliver didn't know what had happened. He could see the Red and Gold clad spectators, they were jumping up and down, screaming with joy.

Gryffindor had won.

Her brown hair was still as she smiled at him. The team's first victory of the year sparked a huge Gryffindor tower party. After the sea of Gryffindors had parted, her face was all he could see. It was time, he ran over to her, his arms outstretched and slammed his lips to hers; kissing her with all he passion he had felt whilst playing. She was left breathless, payback he had told her for the day they had first met.

His first kiss.

Gryffindor had lost the Quidditch cup that year, to the Slytherins. It had shattered Oliver; he had so wanted to crush them. He resigned himself to training all summer, leaving her to send owls once a week to see how he was doing.

Oliver's fourth year was Gryffindor's captain, Charlie's, last. Meaning next year the Captaincy was up for grabs. No one was more dedicated to the sport than he was and after he had regained his position as Keeper, he had to fight for next year's captaincy.

He had to apologise 100 times over to her. He hadn't meant to ignore her the entire summer; he was busy. When he had explained to her that he was busy with Quidditch, she had become even angrier, he never had time for her, she claimed.

While he had tried to explain how much Quidditch meant to him, she hadn't understood.

His first heart break.

Oliver barely had time for his studies, let alone thinking about girls. He was on the Quidditch team, so it wasn't like he went unnoticed. He had had a few flings with girls in his fifth-year classes and a couple in fourth-year, but nothing compared to the thrill of Quidditch, or the thrill he used to get from her.

She attended all of his games that year, celebrating in the wins and reeling in the losses, like any good Quidditch fan. He knew she did because he could spot her out in the crowd every single time; he could tell it was her.

Gryffindor had not won the cup that year either. The team was crushed it couldn't send Charlie away with a win. The team was sad to see Charlie go, but were glad to welcome Oliver into the captaincy when it had been announced that he was Charlie's successor.

That summer he had sent three owls to her, to see if she wanted to meet at Hogsmede for a pint at some point. She had ignored them all. Oliver resigned himself to planning training sessions and manoeuvres for the season ahead.

Oliver received an owl a week before he returned to Hogwarts. It was from her. It was an invitation to her Birthday Party, to be held on the grounds of Hogwarts a week into classes. He immediately sent a 'yes' reply to her owl and readied himself to win her back.

The party was a lovely one. She wore a short red dress that went well with her now long brown hair. Oliver thought she looked a vision; he had made her blush when telling her this. She had told him she was glad he came. He, too, was glad. After the party was over, she asked him to go for a walk.

They had walked to the Quidditch pitch, Oliver had been tentative to go to the source of their anguish, but she had explained how she had overreacted and was sorry. Would he give her another chance?

Of course he would.

He had caressed her with tenderness, her body warm from his touch; their lips entwining.

On the Quidditch pitch, in the middle of the night was when Oliver had another first.

She understood that he needed to focus on Quidditch this year, it was his passion. She attended every practice and every game to show her support. On the coldest of nights in training, Oliver was warmed to see her.

Harry Potter joined Oliver's team that year, not knowing anything about Quidditch concerned Oliver, but it seemed that Harry could keep up. Harry was both a blessing and a curse to the team that year. Even though he had caught the Snitch his first game, he and a two of his friends had lost 150 points for Gryffindor for being out of bounds.

Harry offered his resignation to Oliver, who declined. Yes, he was angry at Harry for almost compromising Gryffindor's chances, but they needed a seeker and Oliver had to admit, he was a good one.

That year, the team lost again, playing without Harry, who was recovering from an encounter with You-know-who.

She had been supportive of Oliver over the Summer, helping him organise Quidditch for the next year, his second last year at Hogwarts. They devised a plan for early morning sessions, knowing that the team would need to be pushed in order to gain the cup this year.

Oliver was crushed that year, the Quidditch games were cancelled. "The Chamber of Secrets" was open. Sure, Oliver was a bit scared at what was happening, but he was really disappointed that Quidditch was cancelled.

She and Oliver had a lot of time to hang out that year. If it wasn't school Quidditch, it was league Quidditch. They listened to the games live on the radio and screamed when Puddlemere United won. Oliver had taken her on long walks around the castle, often ending up at the Quidditch Pitch. They were inseparable. At the Quidditch Pitch, Oliver told her he loved her.

It was Oliver's last year. He was more determined than ever to win the cup. He wanted this, he needed it. He was trying out for Puddlemere at the end of the year and he wanted that too.

She supported Gryffindor at every game, he celebrated the wins and commiserated the losses with her in the tower. Their cute banter disgusting everyone in the wee hours of the morning as they all went to bed after the celebrations.

Oliver couldn't breathe. He was almost in tears; they had done it. Gryffindor had won the house cup. She was screaming almost as loud as he was yelling, they had done it. Oliver Wood had taken Gryffindor all the way to the end. He planted a large kiss on her lips in front of the entire school, making Professor McGonagall blush.

Oliver had tried out for Puddlemere United team that summer and made it to the reserve team. She had supported him the entire way through the process and was the most proud girlfriend a Quidditch player could ever had.

Four years later, she and Oliver returned to Hogwarts, this time it had nothing to do with Quidditch. They came to fight, fight for the resistance to over throw Voldemort.

Oliver was scared; what if he died? Scarier still; what if _she _died? Oliver had not let her out of his sight the entire battle. She accompanied him with the rest of the squad on brooms and defended the castle, until the very end.

They had won. There were many casualties on their side, but many more on the side of evil. After the dust had settled, Oliver had taken her on another walk around what was left of the castle. They walked down to the Quidditch pitch; it was destroyed. Oliver wasn't ashamed to shed a tear. This was his childhood, his life.

At least he had her.

In front of his loves; the Quidditch pitch and her, Oliver bent down on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage.

They married a year later.


End file.
